


Revenant

by BreakfastTea



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Halloween 2020, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Horror, Royal Arms (Final Fantasy XV), ghost story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27314746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreakfastTea/pseuds/BreakfastTea
Summary: After listening to Ignis telling ghost stories, Noctis is abducted in the middle of the night by something that won't be forgotten.
Comments: 19
Kudos: 77





	Revenant

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween 2020! This is my fourth annual FFXV spooky story. I hope you all enjoy it ^_^

Ignis had a gift for scary stories. It was all in his understated, calm delivery. Gladio claimed it was amazing despite the distinct look of discomfort on his face. Prompto wailed and trembled. Noctis knew better than to listen after one too many childhood nightmares. He made a point of playing on his phone and looking completely chill. It was the only way to stop Ignis’ story from digging its way into his brain and leaving nightmares in its wake. He was too tired to lose a good night’s sleep. He’d Summoned Titan earlier today in a fight. While it didn’t knock him out like Summoning did in the early days, he was still worn out.

“And that is why the stairs creak at precisely three o’clock every day.” Ignis leaned back in the chair, firelight reflecting in his glasses.

“Never. Sleeping. Again,” Prompto declared. Noctis looked at him. His friend looked tearful. “Why, Ignis? Why would you do this to us?”

“You asked for it,” Gladio said. Noctis’ gaze flicked over to him. He saw the tension in Gladio’s profile even if no one else did. “It’s just a story.”

“Sure it is,” Noctis said.

“Don’t do that! Don’t make it worse!” Prompto cried out.

Crushing his urge to smirk, Noctis gave Prompto his most reassuring look. “We’re camping outside. There are no stairs.” They’d stopped in for the night not far from the ruins of an old city decimated in the war. The sound of wind whistling through derelict buildings had put them all in a mood. “You’re safe from Lucy One Step.”

Lucy One Step. It was an Ignis classic; the story of a haunted doll that crept up to its owners’ bedrooms, paralyzed them with a glassy-eyed stare, and murdered them, only to find its way to another victim’s house. Noctis had definitely lost sleep at the idea of a haunted doll finding its way into his childhood bedroom. Not that he’d ever admitted it to anyone, including Ignis. But he was twenty now, and way past anything like finding spooky stories scary. His own life was freaky enough.

Didn’t mean he was above teasing Gladio and Prompto though.

“Then again, maybe she’ll adapt her MO just for you.” Standing, Noctis slid into the tent. “She’s got to keep up with changing times.”

Gladio lobbed a pillow at him. Noctis caught it and added it to his pile. He lowered himself into his sleeping bag. “Thanks. I needed that.”

“Tch.” Gladio got to his feet. “I’m taking a final sweep. Don’t like being this close to that abandoned city. What the hell happened here anyway?”

“The battle of Motia,” Ignis said. “That was the name of the city, before it was lost. We would have all been very young when it happened. Unfortunately, it ended poorly for Insomnia. Many were lost in the skirmishes.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” Prompto said.

“Unsurprising,” Gladio said. “There were so many warfronts back then, and you would’ve been six or seven. Not exactly keeping up to date with the latest developments.”

“Right,” Prompto said. “Still, crazy to think a whole city can be forgotten like this.”

“Just one of many,” Noctis said. “Think of all the abandoned places we drive by. I can barely name any of them.”

“Sad,” Prompto said.

Noctis had vague memories from that time. Mostly, he recalled Dad being away in meetings more, and his nanny’s strenuous efforts to keep him entertained. He couldn’t have been more than seven at the time.

“All the more reason to be on guard,” Gladio said. “The Empire may come back to relive their glory days.” He slipped out of the fire’s light.

Noctis suspected it was more likely Gladio found an excuse to get away from them and calm down. The big guy never had been one for horror. Surprisingly heart-felt romance on the other hand…

Prompto slid into his sleeping bag at Noctis’ side. “I can’t believe you didn’t talk us out of that,” he grumbled.

“Some lessons have to be learned the hard way,” Noctis replied.

“I’ll remember that next time I win a darts game,” Prompto declared.

“Touché,” Ignis commented from his seat.

Noctis rolled his eyes.

Prompto jabbed a finger at Ignis. “Someday, somehow, I will have my revenge!”

Ignis smiled. “I’m sure you will.”

Noctis knew the day would never come.

Half an hour later, Gladio returned and they were all settled in the tent. Ignis reached up and flicked off the lamp. Noctis sunk into sleep, Prompto’s tossing and turning doing nothing to keep him awake.

Didn’t stop him waking, maybe minutes, maybe hours later, to something odd.

A figure stood over him.

Watching.

And it wasn’t one of his friends. The body shape was all wrong. Too big. Too hulking.

Adrenaline screamed through him. Noctis couldn’t move. His body was locked into position. He tried to shout, but his voice wouldn’t work. He was paralyzed and mute, and someone was hanging over the bed.

Ignis’ ridiculous story flitted through his head.

No. No way.

And then the figure reached for him.

Noctis tried to move, tried to shout.

Nothing.

His heart pounded in his chest. Sweat poured down his body. He was trapped, paralyzed, in his own body.

And the others slept on around him, oblivious to the figure standing over them.

A cold, gloved hand closed around his mouth and nose.

A voice filled his skull. _You shouldn’t have come here._

Pain crashed through his brain.

The world went black.

* * *

The sound of dripping water brought Noctis around. He shivered, the ground beneath him damp and cold.

Wait.

The ground?

Eyes popping open, Noctis found himself in a dark, crumbling room lit only by flickering lightbulbs. The air stirred with a strange feeling. Noctis frowned. Was it magic? If it was, it was old, faded. Pushing himself upright, relief flushed through him. He could move. He cleared his throat.

“Hello?”

_Look at this. The King awakens._

Noctis’ head whipped around.

And saw no one.

He felt someone though. A presence. Many. An invisible crowd surrounded him.

Noctis resisted the urge to summon a weapon. No need.

Yet.

He pulled himself to his feet, wincing at the pain in his back from being left on the hard ground. He massaged his back, hoping his leg would hold his weight. Peering into the darkness, the details of the room emerged. This place, wherever it was, appeared to be barracks. It reminded him of the Kingsglaive barracks back in Insomnia, a place he’d visited more times than he could count. Unlike home, however, this place was in disarray. The beds were either tipped over or collapsing in on themselves. Thick dust coated everything.

Noctis couldn’t bring himself to call out. Something about this place left him itching. Maybe it was all the eyes he knew were watching him.

Footsteps echoed in the distance. Wherever he was, he needed to get out of here. Reaching for his phone, he tried calling the others.

His phone stayed blank. Lifeless.

No battery.

“Shit,” he breathed.

Spotting a door on the far side of the barracks, Noctis moved, taking care to step over the abandoned items. He saw old uniforms, personal belongings, even photos still tacked up to the walls. He peered at them, wondering if he might recognise any of the Glaives. He didn’t. Had they all died here? Or had they aged so much he couldn’t recognise these old images with the people he’d trained with?

The air stirred around him, bringing with it the same tinge of old magic. Noctis stepped back, the skin on the back of his neck prickling. He needed to move, needed to get out and find the others. He remembered the figure in the tent, the protective wards doing nothing to hold them back. So, not a daemon. A Glaive?

If they’d done anything to hurt the others, Noctis would make them pay. He didn’t care about their oath to his father. Nobody hurt his friends and walked away unscathed.

He reached the door and had to kick it open, the old hinges nearly rusted shut. It screeched open, revealing a dim hallway beyond. The place was wrecked, huge chunks of masonry littering the ground, doors ripped off hinges, light fixtures strewn about and abandoned. Either a quake had hit this place, or a war had.

Noctis had a distinct feeling he knew what the cause was.

Crossing the threshold, Noctis heard sounds in the distance. Something creaked in the wind. Beyond that, he heard the murmurs of voices. Their words were indistinct, unclear. It was more the rhythm of speech.

Turning a corner, he jolted to a stop. He caught sight of something in the darkness, an unmistakably human shape leaning up against a wall.

Magitek troopers. Clearly deactivated. Some were fully collapsed to the ground. Others remained oddly propped against the walls. Some even remained fully standing, as though waiting to activate. Their sightless eyes stared at nothing. Looking along the hallway, Noctis saw other remains.

Human remains. Some were just bones clad in the clothes they’d died in. Others were mummified.

Rusted bloodstains marred the walls, the floors, the ceiling. For every dead Magitek trooper, there were four huddled Glaive remains.

This place had seen a slaughter. There was no other word for it.

Chills prickled across Noctis’ neck. He didn’t like this. He edged down the corridor, holding his breath every time he had to ease past an unmoving trooper. His ears strained for sounds, for any sign his friends were here too. The strange voices didn’t get any closer. Rain splashed on nearby windows. A storm gathered itself around the barracks.

He kept going, moving past old supply rooms, training rooms, offices, even an area that still had the attack formations detailed on a largescale map. Stopping to look at it, he found the barracks on the tactical plan, saw just how deep into the abandoned city he was. Looking down at himself, he noticed how filthy his clothes were, and how his skin was littered with grazes and cuts. No wonder his back ached so much. Noctis returned to the map, saw Insomnia’s troops pinned down on all sides, the Empire’s forces utterly overwhelming.

It wouldn’t have been a battle. It would’ve been suicide. There wouldn’t have been a way out other than to surrender. Except, if he had the strategy read correctly, the Glaives here had staged a last-ditch effort against insurmountable numbers. Who had asked them to fight in a situation this hopeless?  
  
Dad?

Except wasn’t that ultimately a soldier’s duty? To fight to protect others, even in the face of certain death?

No. Not like this.

Because that’s when it hit him. What the old magic was.

A shield spell. One still barely holding on, despite the fact it obviously hadn’t been enough to save the people here.

“I’m sorry,” he called out. He knew the shadows were watching him. “I’m sorry this happened to you. This wasn’t right.”

No response, even though he could feel the eyes staring, watching, waiting.

Planning?

The voices picked up suddenly. Except now they were screaming. Pleading. Begging for help. For rescue. For anything.

Noctis clamped his hands over his ears. It did nothing. He felt people rushing past him, heard the snap of bones and the puncture of flesh. He heard the rasping death rattle of the Magitek troopers, and sensed the magic flying through the air.

Looking up, he saw a figure in the corner of the room.

Watching.

Waiting.

Noctis closed his eyes, dragged in a deep breath.

It was over. There was nothing else he could do. The battle had been over in his childhood.

His own magic, damaged by the Scourge, flashed in anger. “Enough! I can’t undo this!”

The Royal Arms appeared around him, forming a defensive circle. Blue, crystalline light shattered the darkness, silencing the past.

The figure watching him faded into the shadows.

Taking a deep breath, Noctis dismissed his weapons. He needed to get out. He had to get back to the others.

He left the tactical room behind. He turned another corner and saw light shining through a window at the end of the corridor. It couldn’t be moonlight, not with such a storm growling outside. He jogged up to the door and peered out. It was an old anti-daemon light, still shining bright in the darkness. It lit up an old vehicle bay, derelict troop carriers still waiting to carry people into battle.

Or, in this case, to their certain deaths.

It occurred to Noctis that he hadn’t even thought of daemons. He was too wrapped up in the horror of the battle that had taken place here.

Noctis didn’t bother with niceties. Summoning the Engine Blade, he launched into a warp strike, shattering the glass. He landed outside under the light’s immense glow. Wind tore at his clothes, rain soaking him.

Something followed him out. He heard its footsteps against the cracked concrete.

A figure paced into view. It was the same one from the tactical room, the one Noctis kept catching sight of. At last, they seemed ready to reveal themselves. _You would leave this here? Leave us here? Turn your back on our sacrifice?_

“If I could, I would ensure you are not only remembered but revered for what you have done,” Noctis said. “But Insomnia… Lucis…” It was hard to force the words out, but Noctis had to. “The kingdom has fallen.”

_Fallen?_

Noctis didn’t have a chance to speak. The Glaive, or the remnant of the Glaive, rushed at him. Hands clamped around his head. A bitter, draining chill closed around Noctis. He staggered, his lungs refusing to fill. It was like before; he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, could hardly think. The abandoned city faded, replaced instead by Noctis’ memories.

Seeing Insomnia under attack.

Learning his father was dead.

Knowing the Empire had the Crystal.

_Useless fool!_

Noctis hit the ground hard, his body slowly coming back under his control. The pain in his back flared up for the poor treatment, the bumps and scrapes littering his body burning.

_You fled while your kingdom burned! You left them, just like we were left here. People died for you! For your father! And look at how our sacrifices are repaid. With failure and cowardice._

“No,” Noctis said, his voice gaining strength. He forced himself to his feet. “That’s not what happened. I will save our people. I will restore the throne. I am fighting for all.”

_Except us. Except the forgotten._

“I will fight for your memory. Your sacrifice wasn’t – ”

_Was not necessary. You are going to pay for this. We were lied to. We were abandoned. I swore vengeance. You will pay._

Other figures appeared in the building behind Noctis. Turning, he looked and saw countless faces pressed up against the windows.

Angry faces.

All clad in Kingsglaive uniforms.

_You won’t be leaving here._

Noctis couldn’t stay here. Flicking on his flashlight, he ran, half-blinded by the wind and rain. His back throbbed, his leg threatening to give out beneath him. He couldn’t let that happen. It didn’t matter how dark it was or how many daemons he ran the risk of running into. If he stayed here, he would die.

He heard an army behind him.

Looking back, he saw them. Or, rather, the outline of them.

Hundreds of Glaives.

Hunting him.

Noctis ran. He warped to cut across the abandoned city quicker. He couldn’t go all out, not with so little sleep after Summoning Titan earlier… yesterday… However long ago it had been.

The Glaives followed. Even in death, they moved with the ease his father’s magic gifted them.

And then they started fighting.

Warping again, Noctis had to dodge a shuriken slicing through the air, only to then find himself face to face with its wielder. Suspended in midair, Noctis tore a Flask out of the Armiger and threw it.

Ice magic. The revenant Glaive fell back with a rasping shriek. Noctis hit the ground just in time to take a glancing blow from a blade to the ribs. Gasping in pain, he lashed out, the Engine Blade catching the follow up blow and cutting down the revenant Glaive.

_Bastard King! Betraying us even after we are dead!_

Noctis warped again, putting distance between himself and the revenant Glaives. He was in an old residential streets, derelict apartment buildings crumbling around him. Something flashed in a nearby window. He dodged just in time to avoid taking a spear to the back.

They came at him in waves, surrounding him. He blocked blades and bullets, losing himself in the moment, never letting himself feel the pain of a hit or the exhaustion clamouring for his attention.

“Please,” he said, holding out a hand. “I don’t want to fight you. You served our people. You deserve to be honoured.”

The figure that had stalked him stepped forward from the crowd. _We were slaughtered and forgotten. Being honoured by you means nothing._

Fine. If that was how it had to be, Noctis would do what had to be done. He would stand and move forward. He didn’t have all the Royal Arms yet, but he had enough. He summoned them again, the light cutting through the night. The blades sliced through the air, responding to his silent commands. Weapons shattered, revenants fell, the crowd thinned.

But they did not stop.

Noctis ignored his exhaustion. He poured energy into every attack, even as the Royal Arms drained him.

It still wasn’t enough. The revenant Glaives kept coming, kept up their assault. And he was weakening now. More of their blows got through. Blood erupted, mixing with the rain. A dagger pierced his thigh. His leg gave out.

The Royal Arms dispersed, his power to hold onto them spent.

Which meant he had one, final option.

And Ramuh was only too keen to answer.

Thunder screamed from the heavens, lighting up the old city. Power ran through its veins, long dead lights flickering back into life as Ramuh annihilated everything around them. Already on his knees, Noctis could only watch as the revenant Glaives were consumed by the Astral’s power. Their screams filled his head, flashes of their last battles bursting into his mind. Visions of dying at the hands of Magitek troopers blotted out his vision, the terrible pain of friends losing each other crushing his heart.

“I’m sorry,” Noctis whispered.

The final Glaive crouched down in front of him.

_Do not forget us. To do so again would be worse than our first abandonment._

His hand reached out, closing over Noctis’ eyes.

_You will remember for us._

And he saw it.

The man who had come for him. The commander of all the Glaives here. He’d called for backup.

Called Drautos.

It was Drautos who refused. Who ignored the pleas, who allowed these people to die.

“He betrayed us all,” Noctis said.

_Be that as it may, we are dead and you still live. You have power. You have laid us to rest at last. Do not let it all be for nothing._

“I won’t,” Noctis said.

And then, the last Glaive was gone, fading away with Ramuh’s power. The Astral even took the storm with him.

Noctis fought to catch his breath. Exhaustion consumed him. Looking to the sky above, he saw the first hints of dawn. It wouldn’t be enough to keep daemons at bay. Listening hard, he heard creatures moving in the distance.

Fighting his pain, Noctis forced himself to his feet. He pulled an Elixir out of the Armiger. It wasn’t enough to cure every wound or quieten the pain in his back, but it stopped the bleeding and forced some energy back into his exhausted body. He had to get out of here. Had to get back to the others. He staggered out of the city, seeking out the light and safety of the haven. He saw smoke rising from the fire in the distance. He locked his eyes onto that and kept limping onwards.

* * *

Prompto was the first to wake, chased out of sleep by visions of a doll wielding a knife chasing after him. Gasping for breath, he shot upright.

Safe. He was safe. He moaned softly. Just a nightmare. A stupid nightmare. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees until his heart didn’t feel like it would break through his ribs.

“Okay,” he murmured to himself. “I’m okay. I’m fine.”

He looked up and saw Ignis and Gladio still sleeping and Noctis…

Gone?

Prompto felt himself smirking. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who’d had a nightmare after Ignis’s story.

Sliding out of the tent, he expected to see Noctis sitting by the fire in the early morning light.

Except he wasn’t there.

Fog gathered around the haven, creating a strange feeling of floating above the world. Prompto tried to spot Noctis, but he couldn’t see him. “Noct? You out there?”

No response.

Pulling out his phone, Prompto called Noctis.

The call went straight to voicemail.

Prompto turned to face the tent. Ignis and Gladio were already emerging, both looking worried. Prompto stepped forward, opening his mouth to speak. Gladio held out a hand to stop him. “Look,” he said, pointing at the ground.

Prompto looked. That was when he saw strange smudges on the ground. “What is that?”

Gladio crouched down. “Drag marks.”

“Wait. Are you saying Noct was dragged out of the tent and none of us noticed?” Prompto asked. That couldn’t be possible. “We would’ve heard it! Stopped it!” He couldn’t stop picturing Noctis being abducted and taken far, far away from them while they slept. “This has to be something else.”

“Worry about the details later,” Gladio snapped. “We have to find him!”

“I’ll stay here in case he’s alright,” Ignis said. “We could all be having an over-reaction.”

“Good idea,” Gladio said. “We’ll call with an update. You can get the car ready too if we need to move fast.”

“Understood,” Ignis said. “Hurry.”

Hoping they weren’t already far too late, Prompto followed Gladio as he picked up the tracks through the fog, leading the further from the haven. Prompto had his weapon ready. He wouldn’t let anything stop them from finding Noctis.

“It couldn’t have been a daemon,” Gladio said. “The haven protects us from them.”

“I just don’t get why we didn’t wake up,” Prompto said. “None of us would sleep through someone approaching the haven.”

Gladio laughed, sounding strained. “Noct would.”

They fell silent the further from the haven they went. Prompto started to see broken buildings emerging from the fog. They were in the decimated city. If someone had brought Noctis out here in the middle of the night, maybe he wasn’t so far away. Maybe there was still time to –

Prompto crashed into Gladio. “S-sorry!” he stumbled back. “What is it?”

“Shh,” he whispered. “Listen.”

Prompto did as he was told. And there, in the distance, he heard it.

Someone was crying.

“Is that a child?” he asked.

Gladio shook his head. “No idea.”

Whoever it was, they sounded heartbroken. It wasn’t Noctis. The sound was too high-pitched.

“Should we call to them?” Prompto asked. He shuddered as the sobbing took on a low, keening edge. Whoever it was out there, they sounded exhausted.

But then there were other sounds in the fog; footsteps and voices. Without thinking, Prompto turned, pressing his back to Gladio’s, his weapon ready. “I can’t see anything!”

“Yeah, me neither.” He summoned his sword. “So whatever you do, don’t shoot unless you’re damn sure what you’re hitting is an enemy.”

It sounded like a massive crowd of people moved around them, except Prompto couldn’t see anyone. He felt them brush past him, felt the touch of cold limbs against his. His breath shuddered out of him, misting like the fog around him.

“Shit,” Gladio breathed. “What the hell is this?”

The crying child moved past them, taking the sound of their weeping with them. Prompto shook his head. There was no one here, no one to be making the noise or the sensations of people bumping into him.

“Ghosts?” Prompto breathed.

He stepped forward, his boot crunching something. Looking down, Prompto felt his heart stop.

It was a doll. He’d stepped on its face, shattering it.

Just like in…

“Breathe, Prompto,” Gladio said. “Whatever this is, we’ll be fine.”

And then they were gone, taking the fog with them. The buildings emerged, the old city shining in the morning sunlight.

Prompto relaxed, lowering his weapon. “Did that really just happen?” He looked down. The broken doll was still there, still staring up at him with its hideous glass eyes. “Am I dreaming?”

“No. This is real. And what happened here dies with us,” Gladio said, his eyes scanning their surroundings. “No way are we giving Ignis more ammo for… Noct!”

Gladio took off running. Prompto sprinted to keep up, then overtook Gladio when he saw a familiar figure slumped against a wall up ahead. Prompto reached Noctis first, taking in the sight of his wounds and his blatant exhaustion.

“Are you okay?” Prompto asked.

Noctis blinked. “Prompto?”

“Yeah, it’s me. What happened to you?”

Instead of answering, Noctis pitched forward. Gladio arrived just in time to catch him before he could hit the ground. Gladio shifted his grip, cradling Noctis as he drifted back into consciousness. “Stay with us,” Gladio ordered.

“Sorry,” Noctis murmured. “Busy night.” His stiffened in Gladio’s arms, pain rippling across his face. Prompto checked him over, found a number of barely healed injuries.

“What happened?” Prompto asked.

Noctis shook his head.

“Tell us when we’re back at the haven,” Gladio said. “And keep breathing. I know you’re in pain, but hold on.”

Noctis looked around. “Where’s Ignis?” He tried to pull himself out of Gladio’s arms, but it wasn’t working. “Did they get him?”

“Ignis is fine, he’s waiting back at the haven,” Prompto said. “Are you talking about the people that were kinda just here?”

“Glaives,” Noctis said. “Revenants.”

“Reve-what?” Prompto asked.

Slumping in Gladio’s arms, Noctis’ gaze turned to the distance. “They died here. All of them. Forgotten. Abandoned.” His glazed eyes drifted shut. “Can’t forget them.”

Gladio stood, Noctis tucked in his arms. “Call Ignis.”

Prompto pulled his phone out. “Let’s move while we talk,” he said. “In case anything else super weird happens.”

“Remember what we agreed,” Gladio said as they headed back to the haven.

Prompto nodded. “No ammo for Ignis.”

* * *

Noctis slept. He didn’t know for how long. When he came to, it was night-time again. The combination of his injuries and the over-exertion had left him exhausted. He’d slept for twelve hours solid. Rain pelted the tent, the others all gathered around him. Ignis helped him to sit, handing over a mug full of soup and a thick chunk of bread to go with it. Noctis, hungrier than he’d realized, inhaled the meal.

“Wanna tell us what the hell happened?” Gladio asked.

Resisting the urge to slump back into his sleeping bag, Noctis told his story. When he finished, he stared at the others to gauge their reactions.

“I can’t believe you were actually abducted by a ghost,” Prompto said, wide-eyed and clinging to his coffee mug like it might ward off any further intrusions from the dead.

“Revenant,” Noctis corrected.

“What’s the difference?” Prompto asked.

Noctis wasn’t sure. It was just the word that came to him.

“The Royal Family has been known to have the ability to speak with the dead,” Ignis said.

“You mean you’ve done this before?” Gladio asked.

“Yeah,” Noctis said. “Not like this.” He ran a hand through his hair. “They were so angry.”

“Wouldn’t you be?” Prompto asked. “They fought for their country, but they were left here to die. No one came to help.”

“They’ll be remembered now,” Noctis said. “We will remember their sacrifice.” They hadn’t clung on after death like that just to be ignored again now. “We’ll tell their story, make sure everyone we meet knows.”

“Of course,” Ignis said.

“Sorry, can we go back to the part where Noct sees ghosts on the regular?” Prompto asked. “Because that seems way worse than Lucy One Step.”

“Maybe I better not explain it,” Noctis said. “I don’t wanna give you nightmares.”

“So long as you promise not to get dragged out of the tent by a ghost ever again,” Prompto said.

“It’s not like I was trying this time!” Noctis shot back.

“Perhaps we’d best stay in town for the next few days,” Ignis said. “We should avoid being anywhere near places that could have unexpected preternatural activity.”

Prompto and Gladio stared at him.

“Ghosts,” Noctis said. “He means ghosts.”

“I can’t even tell if he’s serious or telling a story,” Prompto moaned.

“I’m packing up camp,” Gladio announced, sliding out of the tent.

“I’ll help!” Prompto hurried after him. “We’re gonna head to Lestallum, right? Big town, lots of people, lots of bright lights?”

Noctis looked at Ignis. “No more ghost stories for a while.”

Ignis tapped his glasses up his nose. “Agreed. Besides, nothing I know could compare to your experience.”

“Dunno about that,” Noctis said, sipping the rest of his coffee. “Remember Washcloth Wendy?”

“I haven’t thought about that one in a long time,” Ignis said.

“Save it,” Noctis said. “For when they’ve got a few nights without nightmares.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Ignis said, bowing his head slightly.

“Y’know, beneath that cool exterior beats the heart of a cold-blooded monster,” Noctis said.

Ignis popped a can of Ebony open. “Do keep it to yourself.”

**Author's Note:**

> Until next time, my lovely readers! Y'all know where to find me on [Tumblr](https://breakfastteatime.tumblr.com/) ;)


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